Destroying Myself Was my Worst Habit

When I was still riding the emotional, mental, and spiritual uber roller coaster of Bipolar Disorder (soaring to breath-taking heights and plunging to soul-crushing depths at breakneck speed), self-destruction was my worst habit.

Nearly running and starving myself to death, falling into a large vat of near boiling concentrated sodium hyroxide due to drinking, temporary homelessness, suicidal and homicidal ideations, two stints in the state funded psychiatric facility for the indigent in Kansas City, 4 divorces, racking up $200K in debt, climbing a 200′ tall electrical line tower with no training, equipment, or spotters, putting cigarettes out on myself, and driving while black out drunk are examples of my most extreme attempts to self-destruct. It was almost as if I was wired to find an unconscious way to destroy myself.

I have had more than one clinician who was treating me remark that I was the most self-destructive person they had ever treated.

The beauty is that many of these acts pre-dated the start of my blessed “recovery,” which I have learned is a daily effort (along with grace from my Higher Power) to stay off of that wicked roller coaster, remaining stable and sober.

Today, with meds, many coping tools, much professional and personal support, spirituality, and a daily regimen to stay stable and spiritually fit, my habit of self-destruction has diminished significantly and no longer keeps me in survival mode.

Today I want to live and have a life that I treasure. Rather than a mere existence with which I kept gambling.